


Mirror of Questions

by devilinthedetails



Series: The Dog, His Songbird, and His Urchins [6]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Acceptance, Canon Trans Character, Family, Gen, Lessons, Mirrors, Questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Okha and Truda share a moment of mirrored, quiet acceptance.





	Mirror of Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I had Okha think of herself with feminine pronouns in accordance with how she seems to think of herself in the books.

Mirror of Questions

“Okha?” Truda’s brown eyes were reflected wide as a cornered mouse’s in Okha’s mirror as she appeared in the doorway to Okha’s bedroom, and Okha wondered what Truda saw when she looked in the mirror at Okha after Haden’s revelation that she dressed as a mot when entertaining at the Waterlily. 

Okha met Truda’s gaze in the mirror since she sensed that Truda might flee or flunch if Okha glanced at her directly. “Yes, lass?” 

“Haden said at supper last night that ye wore a mot’s clothes, makeup, and jewelry when ye performed at the Waterlily.” In the mirror, Okha couldn’t see Truda’s shuffling feet but she could hear them scuffling against the floorboards. 

“I suppose you must have questions about that.” Okha spun away from the mirror, determined to try to answer the impossible questions for Truda’s sake if not her own that had haunted her and cost her the first family she had because she was a woman caged in a man’s body forever clasing to fly free. 

“I’ve always been drawn to them fancy dresses, facepaint, and gems mots wear, but Ma didn’t have the coins for such.” Truda’s cheeks were flushed scarlet, and Okha imagined them burning like a mirror in sunlight. “Would ye teach me how to dress a fine mot so I might be a maidservant for one someday?” 

“Of course.” Okha, always eager to nourish her adopted children in their dreams and identities as her own parents had failed to do, cupped Truda’s blushed cheeks. They shared a moment of mirrored, quiet acceptance as Okha went on around a swelling lump in her throat, “It’d be a pleasure.”


End file.
